


The Best Portion

by Aglarien



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-14
Updated: 2015-07-14
Packaged: 2018-04-09 06:51:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4338176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aglarien/pseuds/Aglarien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Elladan is wounded on his way back to Legolas.  After they are reunited, they finally sail and find joy in Valinor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Best Portion

Disclaimer: Not mine. The great Master Tolkien's estate owns everything else. I promise to return his elves when I'm done playing with them.  
Warnings: AU.  
Beta: Jay of Lasgalen. All remaining mistakes are mine alone.  
Written for the Ardor in August fic exchange. 

 

That best portion of a good man's life, his little, nameless, unremembered acts of kindness and of love. ~William Wordsworth (1770-1850)

 

Elladan woke with a gasp of pain, and strong hands instantly held him still at his shoulders. “Do not try to move, my lord. You took a nasty blow from that warg,” a deep voice said. 

The half-Elf opened his eyes as the memories crashed in on him. A tall man, a man of Gondor from the looks of his dark hair and grey eyes, looked down on him in concern. Elladan had been on his way back to Ithilien. . .to Legolas. . .when he heard of a settlement of Men being preyed upon by a pack of wild wargs, descendants of those loosed with the destruction of their Orc handlers over one hundred years ago. He was unwilling to leave the opportunity of ridding the land of any remaining evil and knew Legolas would understand his delay. He had arrived in the midst of an attack and immediately entered the fray, fighting alongside the men of the settlement, his great sword singing. Nearly all of the beasts had been destroyed when he saw the small child, huddled in terror against the fence, and a large warg heading her way. “The little one, is she alive? Did I save her?” he gasped out.

“Aye, my lord, she is well, thanks to you.” The man reached for a glass of water sitting on the bedside table and gently raised Elladan’s head so he could take a refreshing drink. When the Elf had drunk his fill and nodded his thanks, the man laid Elladan’s head back on the pillows. “I am Berior, and the child you saved is my daughter, Ivorien,” he said. “She keeps asking if you are awake yet, so I imagine you will see her soon. She waits without with my wife, Anwareth. You are in my home, humble as it is, and we are honored to care for so brave a warrior. With your help, we lost no one and the entire pack is finally dead. Never have I seen someone fight as you did. There is no way to thank you for helping us. . . for saving her.” The man’s voice broke and he cleared his throat. “Have you much pain? We have no healer here and I suspect your ribs are badly broken from the blow, but we will do what we can to aid you. You hit your head when the beast knocked the breath out of you, but it does not appear as bad as your chest.”

Elladan cautiously took a shallow breath, the pain telling him how badly his ribs were broken. His head hurt, but nothing like the pain that filled his chest. “My horse?” he whispered, trying not to breathe deeply. 

“He is safe in my barn, my lord,” the man answered. “He has been curried and given food and water.” Berior frowned as he watched Elladan. “Would you breathe better if you tried to sit up, my lord?”

Elladan nodded and allowed the man to help him rest his back against the pillows. Moving was agony and he bit his lip to keep from crying out, but he knew it would ease once he had bound his chest tightly – and for that he needed to sit. Even with his Elven healing abilities, it would take him at least a month to mend – or more, since he intended to leave to join Legolas by the next day and would do his bruises and cracked ribs no favor in doing so. He instinctively trusted Berior, sensing that this was a good and honorable man. Thanking the Valar that he had not been on his own when he encountered the wargs and had met these good people, he said quietly, “I am Elladan and I thank you for helping me. I am a healer. There are supplies in my saddlebags to bind my chest and herbs for the pain. Can you bring them to me?”

“They are here in the room, my lord,” Berior said, rising carefully from where he sat next to Elladan on the bed. 

Elladan looked around the room for the first time, quickly taking it in, and realized he must be in the bedroom that belonged to Berior and his wife. It was plainly furnished, but what he could see was well made and clean. Clothing was hung neatly on pegs behind the door: a woman’s dress in serviceable gray, a man’s tunic in the same hue, and white nightgowns. A large, carved chest against one wall probably held more blankets and clothing. A small dressing table with water pitcher and bowl sat against one wall. The comfortable bed was easily roomy enough for the couple and their child. Following Berior with his eyes, he saw his belongings neatly stacked in a corner. His sword had been cleaned until it shone and stood against the wall beside his bow and quiver. His saddlebags lay atop his bedroll. “For how long was I unconscious, Berior?” he asked.

Berior looked out of the window. “A few hours,” he answered. “It was mid-morning when the attack began, and the sun is now beginning its slow descent.” He brought the saddlebags to the bed and said, “If you will tell me what to get, my lord, it will save you moving as much.”

“Please, just Elladan.” The half-Elf attempted to smile at the man, but even that hurt. “If you open the saddlebags, you will find a roll of white cloth for bandaging. I will need it to bind my chest. There are also small leather pouches full of herbs. If you bring them out I can choose the ones for pain, and perhaps your good wife would brew them into a tea for me.”

Berior nodded and searched the saddlebags for the bandages and herbs, laying them out on the bed. Elladan pointed out the pouch with the herbs for his pain and the man left the room with it, taking it to his wife. When he returned, he placed the unused pouches back in the saddlebags and set it on the floor. “I have seen broken ribs bound before, my lord. Will you allow me to assist you?” he asked.

Elladan nodded and attempted to sit up straighter. Before he was able to force himself up, Berior was helping him sit. Elladan gave the man a grateful look and carefully lowered the sheet from his chest. His tunic and shirt had been removed, and he grimaced at the sight of the brilliant red bruises that covered his front from his waist to below his neck, knowing they would still be a vivid purple by the time he joined Legolas. With skilled fingers he probed his chest, searching for dangerous multiple breaks and was relieved to find none. Each rib except the topmost and two bottommost was cracked but firmly in place, and he blessed his sturdy heritage of Elf, Maiar, and Man. 

The man bound his chest tightly with surprisingly gentle and steady hands. Elladan murmured his thanks and leaned back against the pillows, drawing a shallow experimental breath. The pain was greatly lessened, although the bandages were constricting. Perhaps he would avail himself of Berior’s hospitality for two or three days instead of one. Legolas was already going to have his head for getting hurt anyway; he might as well take an extra day or two to heal more. Truth be told, he really didn’t think he was ready to get back on his horse and resume his journey.

A soft knock sounded and Berior opened the door to admit his wife and daughter. Little fingers gripped her mother’s skirts tightly, but the small child nonetheless looked up at Elladan bravely and smiled. Berior took the tray Anwareth carried and set it on the bedside table, seeing she had brought not only the injured Elf’s tea, but a thick soup and bread for both of the men. 

Anwareth immediately went to Elladan’s bedside and dropped to her knees, with Ivorien beside her. Taking one of the Elf’s hands, she kissed it, and with tears in her eyes, said, “Thank you for saving my daughter, my lord.”

Elladan grasped the woman’s hands in his own, and said quietly, “Please . . . it was. . .” He almost said, ‘It was nothing,’ but stopped himself in time. It was a child’s life and he knew he had saved her, so he said instead, “It was my honor, my lady.” 

“I was on the other side of the village with the women when the attack came. Ivorien was with her father and they would not let me go to her.” Tears ran down Anwareth’s face, and she kissed Elladan’s hand again. 

“It is over now, my lady,” Elladan said softly. “The wargs are gone and Ivorien is safe.” Returning her gesture, he drew Anwareth’s hand to his lips and kissed it. 

Berior placed a hand on his wife’s shoulder. “Perhaps Lord Elladan would like his tea now, my dear?”

Anwareth drew her hand back and quickly wiped her face with her fingers. “Yes, yes, forgive me,” she said, quickly rising and bustling to the tray. She handed Elladan the cup of tea. “Will you take some food as well, my lord? I have brought hot soup and fresh bread for you and Berior. He has stayed by your side since he brought you here and has not eaten since this morning either. He has not even let me bind the wound on his arm yet. I am sure you must both be very hungry and it will be some hours before the evening meal, which I hope you will allow us to take with you. You are quite bruised, and we do not think you should rise from the bed for some time.”

Berior groaned. “Woman, you are babbling, and it is naught but a scratch,” he said, but his eyes twinkled. He seated himself in the simple wooden chair beside the bed and lifted his daughter to his lap. 

Elladan looked at the couple and smiled as he sipped his tea. The love between them was evident, and he was thankful he had heeded his instincts and ridden to the settlement. Speaking slowly and drawing shallow breaths, he said, “I would be most grateful for some food, but only if you and Berior stop calling me ‘my lord’ and address me as Elladan. I am beholden to your hospitality after all, and I fear I have ousted you from your own room. I insist you take it back before the night – I will be quite comfortable on a floor somewhere with my bedroll.”

“Indeed you will not!” Anwareth said. “We have already discussed it, and you will stay in the bed. I will make a bed for Berior on the floor beside you so he will be near should you need anything in the night, and I will sleep with the children in their room for as long as you are with us, which we hope will be for as long as it takes for you to heal.”

“Truly, Berior,” Elladan said, addressing the man, “I will be fine on the floor. Were it not for what happened I would be sleeping on the ground with my horse beside me.”

“Please,” Berior answered, “allow us to do this for you, my . . .Elladan. You honor us by letting us care for you and in this way we may repay a tiny bit of the debt we owe you.”

Elladan would have sighed if it wouldn’t have hurt him. “Very well, though there is no debt you owe me,” he acquiesced. “I thank you both for your hospitality.” He watched the child on Berior’s lap, who was watching him. She had her parents’ dark hair and grey eyes, and looked to be about four years old. She was altogether a lovely little child. “And is this the beautiful little Ivorien?” he asked. The child giggled and seemed to have recovered completely from her fright – at least for the time being. He knew it was probably a good thing that her mother would sleep with her for the next night or so. “Greetings, Princess,” he said softly.

Berior nodded and smiled. “This is our youngest child, a gift when we least expected it,” he said fondly. “Her brother is sixteen and is out with the other young folk repairing the damage done to the fields today. I am certain he will be home in time for the evening meal and you will meet him then.”

Elladan finished his tea and handed the cup to Anwareth, accepting a bowl of soup in return. The woman placed a rolled up blanket on the Elf’s lap and set the tray on it so he would not have to hold the bowl up and strain his chest. Elladan nodded to her gratefully and dove into the soup and bread with relish. Nothing stirred his appetite like a good battle, injury or no injury. When he and Berior had eaten their simple meal, he said, “I will see to your wound now, if you will bring out my healing supplies again.” As tired and sore as he was, Elladan was always a healer first.

“’Tis nothing, my lord,” Berior replied. “Barely a scratch.”

Elladan glared at the man, who reluctantly rose to fetch the saddlebags once more. “Then let us see it remains so. Anwareth, come and watch what I do so you can change the bandages. Were there others injured this morning as well?”

“Several deep scratches from the beasts’ claws, like mine. The worst is a bite to a man’s leg,” Berior replied.

Elladan nodded. “After we are finished here, send for the man with the bite to come to me so I may tend his wound. Perhaps Anwareth can take the salve I will give you and dress the other injuries from the beasts. I will tell you how to make more of it. It will speed the healing of all kinds of wounds.”

~~~*~~~

The mid-morning sun shone over Ithilien. Legolas walked the deck of the grey ship, inspecting it once more, checking a knot here and a wooden nail there. He had just called to Gimli when he suddenly doubled over in pain and collapsed onto the deck. He was filled with a sense of dread, knowing that he was feeling what Elladan was enduring. Fear and pain nearly stopped his breath, and he felt his heart skip. The flowing of his blood became as loud drums sounding in his ears. Overcome with pain and nausea, his entire body broke out in a hot sweat. 

The Dwarf sprinted to the Elf’s side, dropping to his knees and lifting his friend’s head onto his lap. “Legolas! What is it? What ails you?”

Legolas whimpered, clutching at his chest. “Elladan,” he whispered plaintively. “Elladan….what has happened to you, my love?”

~~~*~~~

After he finished bandaging Berior’s wound, Elladan instructed Anwareth what to do to treat the wounds of the other villagers and make more salve. He tended to the man with an ugly, deep bite in his leg, and then slept soundly for nearly five hours, allowing his body to begin healing. When he awoke, he felt much refreshed. Certainly the pain was still there, and even small movements – like breathing – could bring a wave of intense pain. But he was an Elf, and in his three thousand years he had endured much worse.

The family took their evening meal of hearty meat, vegetables and bread in the bedroom with Elladan, keeping their guest company in the hope of distracting him from the pain of his injuries. They were joined by Berior and Anwareth’s son, Caladir, who was tall and bright, and plied Elladan with questions until his parents told him to cease and allow the Elf to eat his dinner. 

“You like books and stories,” Elladan said, looking at the lad knowingly. Learning in Aragorn’s realm had flourished, and it was not unusual for even humble families to possess a book or two. Caladir nodded. “I know many stories,” the Elf continued. “If your father is willing, perhaps he can spare you tomorrow, and while you bear me company I will tell you some of them.” 

Berior nodded. “That would be kind of you. Elladan, do you have any family near that we should get word to that you are here?”

Elladan shook his head. “My people are leaving these shores,” he said. “I parted from my twin, my grandfather, and my law-father many days ago. They will have reached the Grey Havens by now to take ship to the Undying Lands. Círdan has returned to Middle-earth to bear them hence. My parents already await us there. I go to North Ithilien to meet my mate and we will take sail together – the last of the Elves to leave Middle-earth. The call to sail is strong in us now. It is time.”

Berior nodded, understanding what Elladan said, but sad nonetheless to hear that all of the Elves were leaving. “How long will your mate wait for you?” he asked. 

“Wait?” Elladan smiled. “Forever,” he said quietly. “No matter how strong the call, my mate would wait for me forever.”

“I have heard it said that now that King Elessar has passed, the Elven Prince Legolas is building a ship to sail from Ithilien down the Anduin, and that he is taking his friend the Dwarf with him,” Anwareth said.

Elladan nodded. “Aye. Legolas is my bonded mate,” he said softly. “I go to sail with my husband and our friend Gimli, and I must leave here and continue my journey by the day after tomorrow.”

“But why did you not all go to the Grey Havens to sail in the last ship?” Berior asked. 

“Because of the Dwarf,” Caladir said quickly. “Prince Legolas was afraid that Círdan the Shipwright would not take him on his ship. And you are the son of Lord Elrond of Rivendell, foster-brother to King Elessar and brother of Queen Arwen.”

Elladan looked at Caladir, and then at Berior. “This is a bright lad you have, my friend. A very bright lad.”

~~~*~~~

Gimli carried Legolas into the small cottage they had built along the banks of the Anduin many years ago. The Elf’s state worried him, especially when Legolas seemed to have trouble breathing. Several hours passed while Legolas lay in what seemed to be a trace, mumbling to the absent Elladan. Gimli could do nothing but sit beside him, holding his friend’s hand and stroking his brow. 

Legolas suddenly blinked and stared at the Dwarf. 

Gimli heaved a great sigh of relief seeing lucid blue eyes looking up at him once again. “What has happened, Legolas?” he asked quietly.

“Elladan is wounded. . . injured. . . I know not which. But he is alive and his pain is not so great now. I must leave. . .find him. . .”

"And what will happen if you miss him on the road and he finds his way here without you?" Gimli asked gently. "No, Legolas. You must await him here. You must trust in his strength." Haunted blue eyes looked up at him.

~~~*~~~

Elladan spent the following day resting in an effort to rebuild his strength and in quiet talk with Caladir, telling the youth stories of the Elves in Middle-earth. The boy asked many questions, and when Elladan tired, Caladir fetched a book from another room and read to him quietly. 

In the evening, Elladan once again sent for the man with the bite wound to tend to him. When night fell, he asked for his saddlebags and took out velum, ink and quill, and spent some time writing two documents. One he folded and sealed with wax from the candle at his side, pressing his ring into the hot wax. The other he left open, but he again used the wax to place his seal below his signature, and then put both of the letters inside of his saddlebags. Berior and his wife begged him to reconsider his leaving in the morning as he was still in great pain and had hardly begun to mend, but Elladan refused to be stayed. Legolas was waiting, and Elladan suspected his mate already knew that something had gone amiss. He could not bear the thought of causing his beloved pain, and longed for the feel of his husband’s strong arms about him, even though he reckoned he would be in for a tongue-lashing for allowing himself to be wounded in the first place.

After one more night in the comfortable bed, Elladan rose early and asked to be left alone to dress. Moving cautiously, he managed to don his clothes with great effort. He tidied the pillows and blankets on the bed, and then from his saddlebags removed a leather pouch full of gold and silver coin. He slipped it under the pillows to be discovered after he left, knowing that the couple would never accept it outright. That done, he grimaced in pain as he lifted the saddlebags and bedroll in one hand and his sword, bow and quiver in the other, and joined Berior and his family in the kitchen of the small house for one last shared meal with his new friends. 

When they had eaten, Berior sent Caladir to get the Elf's stallion from the barn. Anwareth wrapped fresh bread, a round of cheese and a goodly amount of dried meat and fruit for his journey. Three water skins were filled with spring water, although he would encounter numerous fresh streams on the way. The food was enough for three grown men for the time he would be traveling, but Elladan said nothing, not wanting to offend. His tea for the pain was brewed and put in another water skin with a red ribbon tied around it to identify it. 

Elladan retrieved the letters he had written the night before from his saddlebags and handed them to the man. "Berior, my friend, you told me when I first woke here that you had no words to thank me. Now I find myself struggling to find the words to thank you and your family for your hospitality. You have taken me into your home and cared for me and my horse, and for that you have my eternal thanks. These letters are but a small way to show my gratitude. The sealed letter is addressed to your king. If you will allow it, it asks my nephew to take Caladir under his care as an apprentice in the great library of Gondor. Go with your son to Minas Tirith and present the letter to King Eldarion's guards, saying to them that it is from his uncle. It is sealed with my ring, and they and Eldarion will recognize the seal of Imladris. The open letter also bears my seal, proof that I am giving my horse, Dulinn, to you and your son. I had thought to set him free before I sailed, but I would be happier knowing he is with you and being cared for. When I reach my mate, I will send him back to you."

Berior held the letters and looked at Elladan in astonishment. "I. . .I do not know what to say," he stammered. "My lord, this is far too generous. You honored us in allowing my family to care for you after what you did."

Elladan smiled and clasped the man's hand. "It is a small thing for me to do," he said quietly. "And now I must leave you. My mate awaits my coming and his heart calls to me to join him." He lifted his saddlebags and clenched his teeth against the pain, but it was only a moment before Berior relieved him of them.

Berior simply nodded, set the letters on the table for safety, picked up the rest of Elladan's belongings, and walked with him to the door, while Anwareth and Ivorien followed with the provisions.

As they stepped into the chill grey dawn, Elladan looked up in astonishment. Before him in the yard in front of the cottage waited not just his great black stallion, but a wagon drawn by two horses and four tall men of the village, all carrying weapons and mounted on horseback. The other residents of the settlement, including the women and children, were gathered around to see him off. 

"If you insist on leaving while your injuries are still unhealed, then we will see you safely to your destination," Berior said.

In a quiet voice that only Elladan and Berior could hear, Anwareth spoke behind him and said, "Did you really think we would simply let you ride out of our village? Our men are honored to escort the one who helped defend us from the wargs, Lord Elladan. We will tell tales of your visit with us for many years to come, and our children will grow up hearing of the mighty Elven warrior and healer, uncle to our king."

Elladan turned and looked at Berior and Anwareth with gratitude. “Thank you,” he said quietly. “Once again I am in your debt.”

Berior simply shook his head and smiled. “Will you ride your horse, my lord? Although I would recommend the wagon instead. You will find a comfortable bed laid out for you in the back, which will cushion you from the jolting of the road.” 

Elladan looked at Dulinn and Caladir, who held the horse’s reins. The horse seemed to have taken a liking to the lad, and was nuzzling Caladir’s chest. The boy was speaking quietly to the great stallion and rubbing the horse’s head. “Caladir,” he called, “mount your new horse. His name is Dulinn, and a better animal you will never know. I trust you will care for him well.” Turning to the villagers, he said, “This horse is now the property of Berior and Caladir, and let none dispute it, for I have given him my seal.” The villagers cheered in approval. To Berior, Elladan said quietly, “I will ride in the wagon, please, my friend. And the blessing of the Valar be upon you for your kindness, for the journey would have been agony without it.”

The food and water skins were placed in the back of the wagon to join the rest of the supplies, saddlebags and weapons, and Elladan turned to Anwareth to say his silent goodbyes. Words now failed him, for even the morning’s minor activities had left him aching and short of breath – what breath he could still take with his tight wrappings. Taking the woman’s hand, he once again bestowed a kiss on it, and then smiled at Ivorien in her mother’s arms, running a finger down her soft cheek. “Fare you well, little Princess,” he whispered. With a final smile and nod to Anwareth, he turned to the wagon and allowed Berior to help him into the back. As they left the village, he raised a hand in farewell to the villagers. When they were out of sight, he collapsed onto the soft pile of blankets and quilts and reached for the water skin tied with the red ribbon. 

~~~*~~~

Legolas pulled on his boots, fastened his bow, quiver and knives in their holders across his back, and with determination in his step, headed for the door.

“And just where do you think you are going, Elf?” Gimli asked as he stood in the doorway, arms crossed across his chest. 

“Get out of my way, Gimli!” Legolas said. “Elladan is hurt and I am going to find him!”

Gimli sighed. They had already had this argument many times. “Legolas,” the Dwarf said patiently, “you must stay here. Elladan is coming. If you leave, you will not be here when he arrives.”

“I cannot just stay here and wait!” Legolas shouted. “This is making me crazy! My mate is hurt!”

Gimli nodded. Short of tying Legolas to the mast of the ship, there was only one other thing to do. “Then don’t just stay and wait! If he is hurt, we will want to leave as soon as he arrives in order to get him to Valinor where he can he healed. Just when were you planning on us moving all of our things on board the ship? If we start moving now, we can live on the ship until we sail, and we will be ready when he arrives. Now go put your weapons away and help me start moving things on board so we’re not living on a bare deck for Aulë knows how long!” 

The cottage was built along the banks of the Anduin, and Legolas, Gimli and Elladan had long ago built a small pier in preparation for their sailing. The ship was moored at the end of their pier, but the vessel was as yet empty. Two cabins with a large galley and common room in between were built on the deck and would hold furnishings and some of the personal belongings they were taking, while most of the provisions for the journey and the rest of their items would be stored in the ship’s hold. 

It took them two days to decide on and pack what they would take from the cottage, and a third to simply move their belongings and furnishing onto the ship. A fourth day was spent arranging their furniture and clothing in the cabins, since they would now be living on board ship. When that was finished, they packed dried meat, onions, potatoes, and apples into boxes and barrels for the journey and laid them in the hold of the ship, along with bags of cornmeal and flour, jars of honey, baskets of eggs, kegs of ale, and cases of wine. The galley was stocked with dishes, pots, pans, and utensils, as well as wood for the stove and a few days supply of food. Boxes of books, more clothing, household goods and personal mementos joined the stores in the hold. When all else had been prepared, they harvested vegetables from their garden – lettuce, cabbage, carrots, green beans, and tomatoes – and brought them on board for the journey.

Gimli next set Legolas to work filling barrels with fresh water for their journey. When Legolas complained about the number of barrels as Gimli rolled another empty one down toward the river to be filled, Gimli just shook his head.

“We do not need so many, Gimli,” Legolas said. “The journey is not that long!”

“How do you know how long it is? And what will happen if they refuse to allow me to step foot onto Valinor, Legolas? How do you think I will get back here? I will need the water on the return voyage,” Gimli responded.

“They will not refuse you. You were part of the Fellowship,” Legolas insisted.

“You do not know that they will not refuse me. So was Aragorn a part of the Fellowship.”

“That is different,” Legolas said. “They welcomed the Hobbits – even Sam!”

“They were the ring bearers, Legolas.” Gimli rolled another barrel down to the river. “Humor me. Fill the barrels.” 

They worked in silence for an hour or more, and then Gimli spoke again. “Will I die there, Legolas?”

“I do not know, my friend,” Legolas answered honestly. “If we are greeted by the Hobbits, and they look the same as when they left, I suspect we will know the answer to that question.”

Gimli nodded. He refused to wholly trust that he would be allowed to enter Valinor; if he did, it would be too hard to bear if he was refused entry. A part of his mind prepared for the return journey home alone. Legolas would insist on accompanying him and staying until his death, but he couldn’t allow that – wouldn’t be responsible for tearing him away from Elladan again. He would steal away on their ship if he had to. He wasn’t that good a sailor, although Legolas had tried to teach him, and if he got lost – well, it wouldn’t really matter then anyway, would it?

~~*~~

The journey along the Great West Road, and then to the Anduin River north of Osgiliath where Legolas awaited him, would not have taken Elladan more than three days travel had he been whole and riding his horse. With the wagon moving more slowly because of his injuries, the journey took five days. The men were kindness itself, preparing fresh herbal tea for his pain daily and seeing that he was as well fed and as comfortable as they could manage. 

Elladan simply couldn’t remember being in such pain before – or for so long. But then he hadn’t ever cracked so many ribs at one time before either. If it had not been for the generosity of Berior and the men of the village, the journey would have been agonizing. Although his bed in the wagon was cushioned and comfortable, he was miserable, and simply wanted to get home to Legolas. Every movement, or no movement at all, was painful, and he knew just being in the presence of his beloved husband would ease his hurt. With any luck, the ship would be finished and ready to sail. He longed to join his family and friends again – and not just because he knew if he was not healed by the time they reached Valinor that his father would heal him. The truth was he missed them – his father, his grandmother, Glorfindel, Erestor, all the other elves he held dear, and especially his mother. Leaving Middle-earth was no burden when he thought of all those who awaited their coming.

As they neared the great river and the place he had called home for many years past, Elladan guided Berior along the winding roads. The thought occurred to him that he should probably rouse himself to sit in the front with Berior and so ease Legolas’ worry when his husband saw him. The notion of bestirring himself from where he half-sat, half-lay in the back of the wagon, propped up against the blankets so he could see the road, was too much to fathom, however, and he simply stayed where he was, unable to deal with the thought of the pain that his moving would cause. 

It was mid-afternoon as the wagon and its outriders pulled into the clearing where their cottage sat, and seeing them, Gimli gave a great shout. “Elladan! I told him you were coming!” The Dwarf hurried to the wagon and leaned against the side, peering at Elladan. “Now what have you gone and done to yourself, and don’t you be bothering to say it’s nothing. Legolas felt it when you were hurt and gave me quite a scare.”

“Where is he, Gimli?” Elladan asked, looking around anxiously. “Is he all right?”

“Aye, he is. I’ve kept him busy making ready to sail while we waited for you, after I threatened to tie him to the mast if he tried to leave and go after you one more time. He’s down in the hold arranging things again. He ought to come bursting out of there any minute now, once he senses you’re back. Now, out with it, Laddie – what have you done to yourself and who are these kindly gentlemen who have brought you home in such style?” 

“Just cracked ribs, Gimli,” Elladan said. His words stopped and the rest of Gimli’s question was forgotten as he saw Legolas race across the distance between them. In less than a moment, the lithe Elf had leapt lightly over the side of the wagon and was kneeling at his side. 

The men watched the Dwarf curiously, having never before seen one of his kind, but then gazed in undisguised admiration at the beautiful, golden-haired Elf, realizing that the tales they had heard of the beauty of the Mirkwood prince were true. Each of them turned aside as they saw the prince gently kiss his mate, not wanting to intrude on a private moment. 

There were no words spoken for long moments. The two Elves had no need for them, each one knowing what was in the other’s heart. Legolas gently laid one hand on Elladan’s chest in the area where the Mirkwood Elf had first felt the crushing pain, and the other lightly moved over the rest of his mate’s body, searching for more hurts.

“It is only my ribs, beloved one,” Elladan whispered, a gentle smile on his face. “Painful, but not dangerous, and I have been well cared for.”

Legolas’ worried blue eyes scoured his mate’s body, and he nodded, finally satisfied that Elladan had taken no other grievous injury. He glanced up to see that the men had dismounted and had been drawn away from the wagon and towards the ship by Gimli, who stood talking with them, allowing the two reunited Elves a few moments alone. “Can you rise? Shall I carry you, or will it make the pain worse?” Legolas asked quietly. “Our bed is in our cabin on the ship so we will go there. We have taken all we wished to carry to Valinor from the cottage and placed it on board the ship.”

“Just lower the gate at the end of the wagon and let me hold onto you to pull myself up. Then get down before me and take my hands to help me down, love,” Elladan said. “I can walk well enough, and I feel better just being home with you. Your touch has eased my pain, as I knew it would.” 

Legolas did as Elladan asked and helped his mate from the wagon before reaching to gather his saddlebags and weapons in one hand. He cautiously wrapped an arm around Elladan’s waist to support him, watching his husband’s face to make sure he was not causing more pain. 

As they slowly walked to join the men and Dwarf, Elladan said quietly, “I have given Dulinn to Caladir – the lad who rode him – and to his father, Berior. He was the one driving the wagon. He and his family took me into their home and cared for me after I was hurt. His wife even insisted I take their own bed. They are good people, Legolas. They would not let me ride off alone because they knew I was still hurting, and they expected nothing in return. Dulinn understands, I think. I have already said my goodbyes to him, and he is happy to be with them. There is already a bond growing between him and Caladir.”

Legolas nodded, but said nothing. When he had first seen Elladan half-laying in the wagon, his heart had skipped a beat, but now, even knowing his mate was not grievously wounded, he was still fraught with worry for the pain he knew his husband was so stoically bearing. All he wanted was to get Elladan on board the ship where he could care for him and ease his pain, but first he owed the men at least a word of gratitude for their kindness to his mate.

When they approached Gimli and the men, Elladan smiled and said, “This is my husband, Legolas, my friends, and our friend Gimli, son of Glóin.”

“I am indebted to you for your care of Elladan,” Legolas said, bowing slightly to the men. “I do not rightly know how to repay your kindness, but I thank you with all my heart.”

“We are indebted to Lord Elladan for helping to rid our village of the wargs that were attacking us, my lord,” Berior said as he and his companions bowed to Legolas and Gimli. “I owe my daughter’s life to him!”

“Wargs!” Gimli exclaimed. “Oh! What I would have given to have been there!”

“I am sorry we did not save any for you, Gimli,” Elladan said with a grin. “I fear we had to kill them all.”

Legolas gasped. “Is that how you were injured then? A warg?”

“You should have seen him, my lord!” Berior said before Elladan could answer. “Never have I seen anyone fight like that! He ran for my daughter and scooped her up in his arms, thrusting his sword into the charging beast! It was a sight to see! But the great, ugly beast still moved forward as it died, and rammed into Lord Elladan’s chest. He fell unconscious as his head hit the fence, still cradling my little one in his arm. The head wound was luckily not severe and he has not complained of it.”

Elladan inwardly sighed, wishing Berior had not told Legolas the whole story, but then he realized that Anwareth’s tendency to babble was not unique in their family. For some reason, that knowledge pleased him. 

Legolas looked at Elladan, alarm in his eyes. That explained why his head had hurt when Elladan had been injured, although that pain had been overruled by the agony in his chest. “Does your head still pain you as well?” he asked sharply. 

“No, love,” Elladan said quietly. “It is fine now. Truly.” 

Gimli saw Legolas’ concern and said, “I have promised to show our new friends the ship, and they are going to stay here tonight and rest before heading back home. So let us go on board now, Legolas, and you can get Elladan into his bed and look after him. The men and I will make dinner for you and I will stay in the cottage with them tonight so you will have peace and quiet to rest.”

Legolas smiled at his friend. “Thank you, Gimli,” he said. “I admit I am anxious to get Elladan to myself and take care of him. We will go to our cabin first, and then perhaps you can show our friends the rest of the ship.”

They boarded the ship and the men praised the beauty and quality of the craftsmanship that went into her building. Legolas accepted the praise graciously and thanked them, and then led the small group to the cabin he would share with Elladan. The cabin was big enough to hold their bed and two bedside tables, a small desk, a dressing table, and a table with two chairs. A railed shelf for books, scrolls, and other small items ran around the room above the windows, and lamps were hung from the ceiling over the table and in the corners of the room. There was even a wardrobe built into one wall. Legolas set Elladan’s weapons and saddlebags on the table, and then let go of his mate long enough to display the thing he was most proud of in the cabin. He released a latch in the ceiling at the head of the bed and another at the foot, and double doors in the ceiling swung down to reveal the sky above. He secured the ceiling doors open with another set of latches at each side of the bed. “We will sleep under the stars at night,” he said softly, smiling at Elladan, knowing his mate would love what he had done.

“It is wonderful!” Elladan exclaimed, his eyes moving across the ceiling to examine the latches before finally settling on Legolas. “Thank you, love” he whispered.

Legolas placed his arm around Elladan’s waist again and held him close. “I knew you would love it,” he said.

“I do,” Elladan replied, gazing at his husband adoringly.

“Bah!” Gimli snorted. “Give me a solid roof over my head!”

“I did,” Legolas chuckled. 

“It is all so beautiful,” Elladan said. “You and Gimli have truly outdone yourselves.”

“Wait until you see the galley!” Gimli said excitedly. “There is a fine oven for cooking our meals and plenty of room for preparing food and washing up. All the comforts of home!”

“Gimli has constructed a masterpiece of an oven and cooking stove,” Legolas said to Elladan. “But there will be plenty of time for you to see it all tomorrow. Now you must rest, my love, and let me take care of you.”

Elladan pouted and employed the little voice that usually meant he could get what he wanted out of Legolas. “But I want to see it now and it’s only the next room.”

Legolas rolled his eyes and sighed. “Oh, all right,” he said, giving in to his mate even though he knew he was being manipulated. “But you are not going down to see the hold.”

As they began to walk from the cabin, Elladan looked around the room once again and his eyes landed on an item lying on the desk: his leather-bound journal, now nearly full. “Wait a moment,” he said, stepping to the desk and picking up the journal. “Caladir, I would like you to take this with you. When you go to Minas Tirith, give it to Eldarion for the great library there. I began this journal many years ago in Imladris, when Aragorn first came to us as a small child, and it ends with the news of his passing. I would like it to stay in Minas Tirith as a record of his life.” He took a saddlebag from the table, emptied its contents, and handed it to Caladir, saying, “Take this to carry it in.”

Caladir accepted the journal, handling it reverently, and then carefully placed it into the saddlebag. “I do not know when I can go to Minas Tirith, my lord, but I will guard it until I can fulfill your wish and hand it over King Eldarion,” he said.

Elladan smiled at the young man. “I think you will be going sooner than you think.” Standing behind Caladir and unseen by his son, Berior nodded to the Elf. “Now, come and let us see this wonderful galley that Gimli has constructed.”

The galley was a masterpiece of Dwarven ingenuity and skill. Gimli had constructed an oven of stone, complete with metal doors for both the wood burning chamber and the oven itself. It was only slighter taller than a table, but the top of the oven was not of stone: fitted into the sides of the structure was a plate of steel that would heat from the fire inside of the oven and allow food to be cooked on its surface. 

The walls around the oven, from floor to ceiling, were tiled in colored stones, and the floor around it was covered in thin flagstones. The smallest space around the stones was closely and expertly filled with mortar so that no flame could catch any part of the wooden ship on fire. Along one side of the room were sinks for cleaning and washing that would drain out into the ocean, and a large table for preparing food and dining was set in the middle of the room. Pots, pans, dishes, provisions, and everything needed in a normal kitchen were hanging from hooks, resting on railed shelves, or in latched cupboards. Barrels of fresh water stood along the wall opposite the sinks. 

Gimli beamed as Elladan and the men marveled at the inventive oven, the men immediately beginning to talk about adapting the design for their own homes. After the Dwarf promised to show them his sketches later in the evening, he said, “Legolas, you will need warm water for Elladan to bathe and ease his aches. I will start the fire here and put a kettle or two of water to boil. Take the large tub into your cabin. We will half fill it with water from the river and then you will only have to add the hot water to it.”

“We have a tub on board?” Elladan murmured, just the thought of a warm bath already seeming to soothe his pain.

The men immediately went to work, each of them wanting to help. They filled the oven with wood and started a fire, brought the large wooden tub up from the hold and put it in the cabin, hauled buckets of water up from the river to fill the tub, and placed two kettles of water on the stove to heat. 

When they had finished, Legolas and Elladan thanked the men warmly. As Gimli led the men away to see the rest of the ship, Legolas stopped them. “My friends, the thought has just occurred to me that we have left quite a bit of furniture and household items in the cottage that we cannot take with us. Perhaps you could use what remains? There are two wagons with harnesses still in the barn and you have the horses to draw them, as well as the wagon you carried Elladan in. The garden is also still full of a surplus of vegetables and the apple trees are heavy with fruit. It will be light for several hours yet and you could make short work of harvesting what remains. Many of the plants are growing in barrel halves that can simply be placed in the wagons. The furniture and other items from the cottage you could load in the morning if need be, before you set out for your home. We will sail early in the morning and it would please us to know our things went to such good people. It would also lighten my heart of its debt to you for your kindness to my mate.” 

“Oh, that is an excellent idea, Legolas!” Gimli exclaimed, clapping his hands, and Elladan nodded in agreement.

Berior bowed and said, “Once again, you are far too generous, my lord. We will accept your kind offer with gratitude. The wargs damaged this year’s crops, and the vegetables and fruit will be most welcome. We will make sure that everyone in our little village gets a share of them. Whatever we take, we will distribute first to those who have the greater need, and then as equally as we may.” The other men nodded and added their thanks and agreement to the plan.

What was left on the ship for the men to see was quickly accomplished, and Gimli led them back to the cottage, promising Legolas that he would return to the ship later with their meal. Once at the cottage, they set to work harvesting the garden behind it and preparing food.

Legolas led Elladan back to their cabin. Finally alone, they sat on the bed for long minutes simply holding each other and sharing languid kisses, content for the moment to be together once again. Finally, Legolas said, “Never leave me again, my love. I could not bear it if I lost you. I thought I would die when I felt your pain.”

“Forgive me for causing you pain, love,” Elladan whispered. “I will never leave you again, but you are a better boat-builder than I, and one of us had to help Elrohir convince your father and my grandfather to sail.”

“Did my father and Celeborn go to the Havens with Elrohir? Will they sail?” Legolas finally asked.

“They have already sailed. I can no longer feel Elrohir on these shores,” Elladan answered. “What Elves were left in all of the realms accompanied them. It did not take all that much to convince them. Your father said he did not want to stay if you sailed, and my grandfather said the same about Elrohir and me. They will reach Valinor before us and your father will be awaiting us…awaiting you.”

Legolas sighed in relief – relief that his beloved mate was back in his arms, and relief that his father would finally sail. “Thank you,” he whispered. “Thank you for making him listen to you. I could not bear the thought of leaving him behind.”

“Do you not know I would do anything to ensure your happiness, my beautiful one?” Elladan said. “I love you so very much.”

Leaning back to look into his mate’s eyes, Legolas cupped Elladan’s face in his hands. “I love you more than my life,” he whispered. After bestowing a slow and fervent kiss on his beloved’s lips, he said, “Your pain is still bad. I can feel it. Do you need a potion to ease it?” He did not have Elladan’s healing skills, but over the years his husband had taught him all there was to know of herb lore and remedies. 

Elladan carefully leaned again Legolas. “Truthfully, love, even to draw a breath hurts. The men have been making me a tea of herbs to dull the pain, but it has been weak enough to merely make the pain bearable. I did not want to fall into a heavy sleep, especially on the journey when anything could have happened. I have not slept very well and I am exhausted. I am so tired of hurting. After my bath and our meal, I would love to have a stronger potion and sleep for hours in your arms.”

“Then you shall,” Legolas whispered, placing a soft kiss on top of the dark head. “Wait here while I finish fixing your bath, and then afterwards you can rest until Gimli brings our meal.”

Legolas added the hot water from the kettles on the cooking stove to what was already in the wooden bath tub, and in no time at all, Elladan was clean and feeling much refreshed, clothed in a soft night shirt, his chest newly bound with fresh bandages, his wet hair braided, and resting comfortably in their bed. Legolas had muttered and steamed and given Elladan the tongue-lashing the half-Elf had been expecting when he saw the vivid purple bruises. Gimli brought their dinner as promised, and after drinking a powerful mixture of healing herbs, he slipped into a deep, restorative sleep, warmly held in Legolas’ arms.

Early the following morning, Berior and Caladir came on board the ship once more and bid their friend farewell, and then the party of men with three loaded wagons began their journey home. Gimli brought the last of his possessions on board, and the three friends set sail down the Anduin. Reaching the Bay of Belfalas at the mouth of the great river, they sailed up the coast to the Grey Havens, and then out to sea along the Straight Road to Valinor.

~~~*~~~

Legolas joined Gimli on deck and took his place at the helm, looking out to the sea. “I have long yearned for this, my friend,” he said. Dusk was falling and stars were just beginning to appear in the darkening sky.

Gimli nodded. He picked up the stout tree branch he had brought on board, and sat down on top of a water barrel that stood near Legolas. After pulling out a knife from his pocket, he began to carefully remove the bark from the branch.

It was four days since they had set sail, and the two friends took turns manning the helm and preparing their food, while Elladan spent most of the time sleeping under the influence of potent healing herbs. Each time he awoke the pain never seemed to be lessened. He would groggily eat and drink whatever was presented to him, and then fall back into a deep sleep. Legolas and Gimli had agreed that they would give Elladan the herbs that made him sleep only one more day – any more, and the half-Elf would begin to weaken from his enforced inactivity. Lessening the dose would hopefully mean that Elladan would be able to walk around the deck a few times a day for exercise, and Legolas would begin to massage his legs and arms to stimulate the muscles. 

“I worry about him, Gimli,” Legolas said. “He is not healing as he should.”

“He is healing,” the Dwarf answered. “The hurt he took was great, and I suspect that some of the ribs he claims are only cracked are in fact broken. He forced himself to stand the pain while he was away, pushing it from his mind. Once he was home and safe with you again he could give in to the pain and finally begin to heal.”

“Have you had broken ribs before, Gimli?” Legolas asked.

The Dwarf nodded. “Once as bad as Elladan’s. Took me near three months to heal completely. Very painful, it was.”

“But Elladan is an Elf. He should be healing more quickly.”

Gimli sighed. “He is healing, Legolas. Elves do not heal that much quicker than Men and Dwarves – or Hobbits, for that matter, unless someone like Lord Elrond is able to speed the healing. If it took me three months to heal, do you expect him to heal in three days? Give it time, Laddie.” The Dwarf’s knife continued to whittle away at the bark of the branch he held.

“I will try to have patience,” Legolas said after considering his friend’s words. “It is just that it hurts me to have him in pain, and I don’t mean just because I can feel a part of it.”

Gimli simply nodded again and said nothing, continuing to strip the branch’s bark. 

“What is it that you make?” Legolas finally asked.

“A walking stick for that husband of yours,” Gimli replied. “It will be better for him to get out of bed and move around on his own. The stick will help bear his weight and make it easier for him.”

“Thank you, Gimli,” Legolas said softly. “I do know how I would have managed without you and your good sense these past days. I fear where Elladan is concerned, my head is ruled by my heart.”

Gimli nodded and continued his whittling, beginning to shape the staff, cutting away the excess wood from its length while leaving a large block of wood at the top to be carved into the handhold. The hand that held the knife was skilled, and chips of wood flew and littered the deck around him. Each stroke was as fast as the wind, the knife wielded by one whose masterly of wood was second only to his mastery of stone.

“What will you carve on the top?” Legolas asked, curiously, knowing his friend would not make anything half-measure and took pride in his workmanship.

“I have not decided,” Gimli answered. “I thought of carving your likeness, but then Elladan would be caught between looking at the staff or looking at you,” he teased. “Perhaps my likeness?”

Legolas snickered. “Perhaps a tree?” he suggested.

“Aye, that would do – if I was carving it for you,” Gimli said with a grin. “I will think of something.”

The walking stick was finished by the time Elladan rose from his bed in two days time. Gimli had shaved it smooth; made a varnish from flax seed oil, oil of turpentine, and resin he had brought on board for that purpose; and hung it to dry on the deck by a leather thong through a small hole just at the base of its elaborately carved top. The handhold was a perfect, miniature replica of the Last Homely House, the memory still as fresh in Gimli’s mind as the day he first arrived in Rivendell. It was a thing of beauty and a joy to hold, and Elladan thanked Gimli for his thoughtfulness at least five times a day. 

Elladan had grown somewhat weak during his enforced sleep and complained regularly to Legolas and Gimli for keeping him drugged for so long. This was taken as a good sign by the two friends, as it was accompanied by regular walks around the deck with the support of Gimli’s stick. What started on the first day as one walk that left the half-Elf with aching legs and gasping for breath, grew to longer periods of activity. It could not be said that he minded the long massages to his feet, calves and thighs that Legolas delivered each day either. Only Elladan’s condition and the considerable pain he was still experiencing kept the two Elves from ripping their clothing to shreds and setting upon each other lustily, and confined their intimacy to gentle embraces and fervent kisses. 

They were more than two weeks out to sea, and while Legolas was preparing a meal in the galley, Elladan walked out on the deck to keep Gimli company at the helm. The Dwarf appeared deep in thought, his gaze fixed on the stars. After watching him for a few moments, Elladan spoke softly. “What is it that you are pondering so, friend Gimli?” He sat on the barrel they kept next to the helm for just such a purpose.

Gimli sighed. “Do you think I will be welcome there?” he asked.

Elladan nodded. “I am sure of it, my friend. There are many there who will speak for you, my father and grandmother not the least.”

“Do you remember how on the Paths of the Dead you rode at the end of our column, carrying the torch? I feared to lose sight of you and that torch. Never was I more afraid. My knees trembled – me, who never had fear in battle. I was afraid to go on, but the fear of being left behind was greater. This fear – I feel like I did that day.”

“Have no fear, Gimli. They will let you stay. I am sure of it.”

“From your lips to Aulë’s ears,” Gimli replied solemnly.

It was a rainy night in the third week of their voyage when they heard the sound of singing coming over the water, and they gathered together on the deck. A sweet fragrance was in the air and, as if in a dream, the grey rain-curtain turned all to silver-glass and was rolled back, and before them they beheld white shores, and beyond a far green country under a swift sunrise. (1)

On the shore stood Elrond with Celebrían, Celeborn and Galadriel, Thranduil, Elrohir, Glorfindel and Erestor, Gandalf, and many other Elves and Maiar, known and unknown. And standing in the front were Frodo, Samwise and Bilbo, each looking as they had last been seen on Arda, but hardier. Sam and Bilbo even seemed to have grown younger during their time in the Blessed Realm. The air was filled with music and fair voices raised in song.

“There is the answer to your question, my friend,” Legolas said softly, smiling. “The Hobbits live.”

Gimli was speechless, his eyes filled with fear and wonder, and then he beheld the Lady of Lórien smiling at him. 

The grey ship slid up to the small dock. Waiting Elves caught the coils of rope thrown down by Legolas and secured the vessel in place. The gangplank was lowered. A commanding figure with long, dark hair and dressed all in white stepped out of the crowd and spoke loudly. “Gimli, son of Glóin and Elf-friend, you have been commanded to appear before Aulë and will come with me.”

The Dwarf trembled, standing between Legolas and Elladan. 

“Do not be afraid, Gimli,” Legolas whispered. “They are letting you go ashore – it is a good sign.”

“Grandmother will not let anything happen to you, Gimli,” Elladan added softly.

Gimli groaned and took a deep breath, trying to calm his shaking.

The messenger of Aulë, seeing the state of the Dwarf, smiled and his face softened. “Do not be afraid, Gimli. You are welcome here. I am Lirillo, Herald of Aulë. My Lord desires only to speak with you, as it has been many ages since he has conversed with a Dwarf.

Three audible sighs of relief were heard from the deck, and Legolas whispered, “Go with him. All will be well now.”

“But what do I do in the presence of Aulë?” Gimli whispered, as he started walking off the deck. “I’ll be too scared to say anything!”

Elladan chuckled, and with one hand at Legolas’ waist and the other holding the walking stick, he led his mate off of the ship and into the arms of their family and friends.

The reunions were joyous, full of warm embraces, tears, and hastily spoken warnings from Legolas for no one to hold Elladan too tightly.

“Elladan?” Elrond said, his arms lightly around his son and Celebrían. “Where are you hurt?”

“’Tis only my ribs, Ada, and they are healing.”

“Leave it to you to get injured when all you had to do was go to Ithilien and join Legolas,” Elrohir said. “How did you manage to get hurt?”

“Well, you see, there was this village and wargs and…”

“When we get you home, I will see to your injuries and you can tell us about it,” Elrond interrupted. “Erestor will see to the unloading of your ship tomorrow and have whatever you have brought taken to the house. Are you in much pain?”

“It is much better than it was, Ada, and quite bearable. Just a twinge now and again,” Elladan answered.

“Do not believe him, Adar,” Legolas said, joining the group with Thranduil in tow. “He needs the walking stick even to rise from sitting in a chair. He tries to hide his pain, but he cannot deceive me. He still has great pain.”

Elladan suppressed a sigh and held his tongue – there was altogether too much talking going on to get a word in edgewise anyway, what with the Hobbits swarming around Legolas, and Celeborn and Galadriel adding to the crush around them, not to mention Glorfindel, Erestor, Melpomaen, Lindir, and a few dozen other Imladris Elves.

“Legolas, you and Elladan will come and live with me at your grandparents’ home while our houses are being built,” Thranduil said. “Elrond can see to his injuries there.”

“Thranduil, if my son is injured, it would be better to have him under my roof,” Elrond said patiently.

“I want to be close to my son, Elrond,” Thranduil insisted.

Elrond shrugged. “Then come and stay with us. The house is too large and too empty anyway.” 

Thranduil raised his eyebrows at the offer, but said, “I accept, and you have my thanks.” 

Elrond’s home was an exact replica of the Last Homely House, down to the Hall of Fire, the library, his hidden wine cellar, and Celebrían’s gardens. Although it was built in a valley by a river it was without waterfalls, but the addition of numerous fountains throughout the gardens added the calming sound of running water. Its building had kept them occupied for many years. After over four thousand years in their hidden valley, the Elves from Imladris who chose to live there found it comforting and familiar. Glorfindel and Erestor occupied their suite, located in the same place as of old, as did most of the others who had crossed the sea with Elrond. The Hobbits were even housed in the same guest rooms they had occupied in Imladris. 

Scribes still labored in the library, copying volumes of lore, and Elrond and Erestor still worked in their offices during the day. Life was much like it was before, but without the constant threat of war and the ever-encroaching threat of evil. Various hurts and injuries still required Elrond’s attention in the healing wing. Elves still came to him and Erestor for counsel, and Glorfindel still trained his guards. There were crops to grow and harvest, farm animals to raise, horses to tend, metal to be worked, stone to be carved, thread to be spun, cloth to be woven and sewn, and all of the other various and sundry necessities of life. Trade thrived in a lively marketplace. The Elves of Valinor maintained their readiness for battle at the command of the Valar, for not only had evil come to the Undying Lands in ages past, but they had once before been summoned to the defense Middle-earth. Not even the Valar knew what the future would bring. All of which Elladan and Legolas were as yet unaware of.

“What of Gimli, Adar?” Legolas asked.

“He is welcome too, of course,” Elrond said, starting to herd everyone away from the shore to begin the walk to where the horses and a carriage stood waiting to carry them home. “There is really no need to build separate homes, Thranduil, unless you wish it. Stay with us a while, and then you, Legolas and Elladan can decide what you wish to do. It is my hope that you will all decide to live with us.”

The journey to the new Last Homely House was not long, and when Elladan alighted from the carriage with Legolas and his mother, he exclaimed, “It is home! Legolas, it is home!”

“Yes, my son,” Celebrían chuckled. “You are home. Your father tells me that you and Legolas took a different suite of rooms after your marriage than the ones I knew. Those rooms have been readied for you.”

“I think that answers where we will be living,” Legolas said quietly, smiling. He really didn’t care where he lived, as long as it was with Elladan and reasonably close to his father. “I do hope our fathers will get along well.”

Elladan nodded, and they walked to the Elves lining the front of the house, waiting to greet them and welcome them home. “I am sure they will, my love. I am sure they will.”

~~~*~~~

Elrond moved his hands gently over Elladan’s chest as his son lay in the bed, frowning at the mottled portrait of pain represented by dark red blotches, vivid purple smudges, and a spattering of putrid yellow. “One of the ribs is broken,” he said quietly, “and is pressing against your lungs, causing fresh bruising. It is well that you are strong. You have borne this injury far too long, my son.”

“I thought they were just cracked,” Elladan replied, his hand clutching Legolas’. Only the three of them were in the room, Elrond having asked the others to leave while he saw to Elladan’s injuries.

“It is nearly impossible for a healer to tell his own injuries, Elladan, especially when pain clouds the vision. But there is nothing you could have done: a healer cannot heal himself,” Elrond responded.

Elladan nodded and watched as his father focused his healing energy, sending it into his tormented chest. Heat flowed from the Master Healer’s fingertips, spreading throughout his body, building until Elladan was nearly nauseous with it. With a sickening, grinding noise, the broken piece of rib moved, and he gasped…and then all turned to black.

“Is he all right, Adar?” Legolas asked anxiously. He trusted Elrond implicitly, but this was his mate, and he had a hard time trying to control his panic when Elladan fell unconscious.

“He will be now, my son,” Elrond answered. “All is well. He will awake again in a few minutes and be able to breathe more easily.” The healer began to smooth a salve over Elladan’s chest to speed the healing of the bruises. “We will bind his chest again, but not as tightly as before. He should stay in bed for the rest of the day, but tomorrow he can get up. He will continue to heal for some time yet. His body will let him know if he does too much, but you know how stubborn he is. You will need to keep an eye on him and make sure he rests.”

Legolas nodded. “He tries to fool me often, but he cannot.”

“I fear you must delay resuming your marital relations a little longer,” Elrond said. He was well aware that Elladan and Legolas had a healthy and sometimes loud love life, recalling the times he had inadvertently passed by and heard them. “It is not safe for him yet, aside from the fact that it would cause him pain. Will you wait until I tell you it is all right?”

“I could never do anything to hurt him,” Legolas said with a nod. “We will wait until you say.” As hard as it would be, there was no question that Legolas would ensure they waited until Elladan was healed.

Elrond and Legolas bound Elladan’s chest again and clothed him in a comfortable nightshirt. The injured Elf had not yet awoken, and so they waited, Elrond in a chair beside the bed, and Legolas sitting on the bed beside his husband.

Elrond picked up the walking stick Elladan had used, weighing it in his hands. “This is a beautiful piece of craftsmanship,” he said quietly. “Did you make it for him?”

“Not I,” Legolas answered. “That is friend Gimli’s work.”

“Is it indeed?” Elrond said, surprised. He did not realize that the Dwarf possessed such skill with wood as well as stone. “I wonder if he would be willing to do some carving for us. There is always furniture and other things to be made or repaired.”

“What is it like here, Adar?” Legolas asked. 

“Much as it was in Middle-earth, but without war and evil things,” Elrond responded with a smile. “The Valar do not meddle in our daily lives. To do so would take away our free will, and that is not their purpose. They interfere only when there is serious judgment to be passed. As always, there is much to do, and many people to feed and care for.”

“I do not know what I expected, but I did not expect...that,” Legolas said, amazed. “I don’t know…perhaps I thought the Valar would just take care of everything.”

“No, nothing like that,” Elrond said with a smile. “Once Elladan is well, you will both need to decide what you wish to do with yourselves, at least for a time. But you may take your time to decide, and you may always change your mind later and choose something else. Although we still train warriors should they ever be needed again, Elrohir has already decided to put away his weapons and work with the scribes and librarians. It is something he has always enjoyed, and he wants to spend time with his mother and, I suspect, with Melpomaen.”

“There is a need for warriors here?” Legolas asked, now completely confused. “I thought you said there was no war? Do they do battle with the seagulls?”

Elrond chuckled softly. “Evil entered this land once before, and we will be ready to defend it if it happens again. This is not the end of life, Legolas, merely life in a more peaceful place. The same problems over relationships, petty squabbles, and hurts exist here. Elves court and marry and raise their children in peace; they learn, work, produce food, make things, and even manage to continue to injure themselves by careless accidents or mishap. Valinor is not without pain – it is merely without the pain of war and strife.”

“There is a need for teachers then? For the young?” Legolas asked, intrigued.

Elrond nodded. “Learning and skilled crafts flourish here, and well as art and the making of things of beauty. Think of all of the many tasks it takes for a community to thrive. My robes, for example,” he said, fingering the fabric. “It took someone to grow the flax, spin the thread, weave the thread into linen, and sew the garment. Break each object down into what is required for its making, and each of those trades exist here. There is no trading with the Men of Lake Town for wine, Legolas,” he said, smiling, knowing of Legolas’ fondness for the drink. “We make our own.” 

“So I could tend the vines, or crush the grapes, or simply be a wine-taster,” the Sindar Elf said with a grin. “But how do our people live here? What order is there to their lives?”

“Elves from each of the different realms throughout our history tend to settle together as they did on Middle-earth, with the same leaders and same customs, although they are free to join another group or live alone, just as they please. But there is no competition or struggle between the different peoples, or realms…or houses…or whatever you want to refer to them as. That is simply not allowed or tolerated. I do not know what would happen if there were, but I suspect that Manwë would have no compunction in ordering the offenders shipped back to Middle-earth as punishment. Send them to Mordor, mayhap.” He grinned. “We tend to refer to the different groups by the name of their leader. The Elves of Imladris are simply called ‘Elrond’s House’. The Elves of the Woodland Realm are called ‘Oropher’s House’.”

“Are all of our people who passed before here then? Have they all been re-embodied?”

“Not all. Those who caused great harm – Maeglin, for instance – are not among us, nor are many of the Kinslayers. We do not know their fate, and it is not spoken of,” Elrond answered.

“Is there exchange between the different houses then?” Legolas asked.

“There is trade among the different groups, and goods of the best quality are usually readily available, since there is time now for developing the finest of skills. Our families are so interwoven throughout all of our history that there is much love and fellowship among the different houses. Thranduil has not yet decided with which house he will settle and make his home – with his father, his friend Celeborn, or here - mainly because of you. That is why he was residing with Celeborn since they arrived here. Our families are now intertwined, and it is my hope that you and your father will stay here with us in this home, instead of building your own.”

Legolas sat and silently contemplated all that Elrond had said, but unbeknownst to both of them Elladan had awoken and heard most of it.

“I wish to be a healer, Ada,” Elladan said softly. “Just a healer. And I want us – Legolas and I – to live here with you, if he will consent to it.”

Legolas smiled and leaned over to place a kiss on Elladan’s head. “Then we will, and we will just have to convince my father to stay here too. I am not certain yet what I am called to do, but I suspect we will work it out in time.”

Elrond bent over Elladan and smiled. “Are you feeling better now? Breathing easier?”

“I am, thank you Ada,” Elladan said. “But are you not exhausted from using your healing energy on me?” 

“No, not at all,” Elrond replied. “I feel wonderful, in fact. You will find that it is one of the blessings of Valinor. Our spirits are not weighed down by the burdens of Arda here. You will heal faster here for the same reason. I expect you to be fully healed before a month has passed, as long as I continue to share my healing energy with you daily.”

~~~*~~~

A strangely subdued and quiet Gimli was escorted back to the house late in the day. After being warmly welcomed by the Elves, he joined Legolas and Elladan in their rooms for a while before the dinner hour.

“What was it like, Gimli?” Legolas asked. “Where you were taken? What was Aulë like?”

The Dwarf puffed on his pipe and looked at Legolas for a long moment before he finally said, “I have no words to describe the beauty of his halls, or of Aulë himself. I sat in his presence, and we talked. He asked me many questions about the Dwarves and we…talked.” He fell silent.

“Was he kind, Gimli?” Elladan asked. “He told you that you were welcome here?”

“Oh yes,” Gimli replied, although it was easy to tell his mind was still partly back with Aulë in the Vala’s halls. “He was very kind. To be in his presence was extraordinary, and yet he made me feel comfortable. He asked me about the Fellowship and our quest. We spoke of many things. He told me that I was welcome here, not just because I was a member of the Fellowship, or because he thought I could bring new skills in working stone here, but because now each of the races is represented here: Elf, Man, Hobbit and Dwarf. Tuor is here, you know – Elrond’s grandfather. Aulë told me he is the only Man ever to be allowed into the Blessed Realm. And we have all been granted the same span of life as Elves. I find that hard to accept. I cannot quite imagine…” 

“Give it time, Gimli.” Legolas nodded in understanding. “Did you see Lady Galadriel?” he asked.

Gimli’s face glowed. “I did.” He removed a piece of cloth from his tunic and carefully unfolded it. “She asked if I still had her hair, and when I told her I left it with my people, where it is reverenced, she gave me this.” On the cloth lay a lock of golden hair.

~~~*~~~  
Two weeks later, Elladan, Legolas, and Thranduil were enjoying the sunshine on a fine mid-morning in Celebrían’s gardens. Elladan lay with head on Legolas’ lap, while his mate and law-father sat side-by-side talking, their backs resting against a tree. 

“Ada, are you sorry that Grandfather is now the leader of our people?” Legolas asked.

“Sorry? No. It is his rightful place, and I do not want to lead anyone anymore,” Thranduil answered softly. “For the first time in my life, I feel…free.”

Legolas nodded. “I feel guilty sometimes because I want to live here instead of with our people.”

“I think you have become more Noldor than Sindar over the years,” Thranduil said. “Perhaps I have as well.”

“I feel guilty too that I do not have any stronger feelings for my mother. It was good to meet her, but I do not know her. I found myself not even wanting to know her better. Is that wrong of me, Ada?”

“Your mother could not wait to sail after you were born, Legolas. This you have always known. There was no love in our arranged marriage – merely companionship and respect. She felt she had done her duty to me, and when weariness overtook her, she left us. You have no reason to feel guilty about her,” Thranduil answered.

“So what will you do here, Ada?” Legolas asked.

“Me?” Thranduil chuckled. “I will live! And for the first time in my life, I will do what it pleases me to do!”

“And what is that, Adar?” Elladan asked, joining the conversation.

“Your father and mine have been talking about joining forces and farming together for the benefit of both houses,” Thranduil answered. “I believe I shall try my hand at farming. To work with the earth…feel the rich soil in my hands…be a part of growing things. I think I will like that. There is a vast fallow field between the farmland of the two houses, and we shall start there – both houses working it together.”

“What a wonderful idea,” Elladan said, making himself more comfortable on Legolas’ lap.

“So Elladan will work as a healer, and I shall farm, but what of you, my son?” Thranduil asked. “What will you do?”

Legolas smoothed Elladan’s soft, dark hair with his hand. “I will be Elladan’s mate and be blissfully happy…and I will work with Glorfindel and train the young ones in archery two or three days a week.” He grinned. “And on the other days, Gimli is going to teach me how to carve wood and we will make furniture together.”

“And we will live in the House of Elrond and be happy,” Thranduil added softly, smiling.

Elladan had a silly-looking grin on his face as he watched father and son embrace. Their life would be good – very good.

~~~*~~~

Legolas and Gimli were in the healing wing, hanging the new wall cabinet they had made for Elrond. Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas watched his mate tend to an Elf who had burned himself on a forge. Elladan moved easily now and had gone the past two days with barely a twinge of pain. The bruises had all faded and he no longer needed to use the walking stick. 

Elrond came and stood beside his law-son, seemingly examining the new cabinet he had requested. “He is moving well,” he whispered. “Has he complained of any pain?”

“Not for several days,” Legolas whispered back. “Is he healed, Adar?”

“I would prefer to have you wait a few more days, but I can hardly ask you to do that when you have been so patient. Just be…careful…gentle,” Elrond replied. “Do not let him strain himself.”

Gimli groaned. “Lord Elrond,” he said, his voice low, “if you don’t mind, I’ll be moving my quarters to the other side of the house, next to the Hobbits.”

Legolas looked at his friend in surprise. “Why, Gimli? Do you not like being close to Elladan and me?”

Gimli gave his friend a scathing look. “No, Laddie, not at night, I do not. I love you and that mate of yours like brothers, but I had quite enough of living close to you in that cottage. I would like to continue sleeping in peace here without having to stuff cotton in my ears, and that I cannot do in the room next to you and Elladan!”

“Hmmm…you do have a good point, Gimli,” Elrond said, grinning. “It is fortunate that no one else’s rooms are near to theirs. Even Thranduil didn’t want to be next to them.”

Legolas had the grace to blush.

~~~*~~~

Legolas sat in their large, sunken bath between Elladan's legs. He resisted the urge to lean back against his husband's chest as Elladan washed his long golden hair. He always loved the feel of Elladan's large hands and elegant fingers weaving through his hair and massaging his scalp. The hands of a healer. Their bath was leisurely and relaxing, their deep love for each other evident in gentle touches and caresses.

"Your hair was full of sawdust," Elladan said, moving his fingers through the blond mane. He had brushed Legolas’ hair free of everything from chips of wood to powdery dust before wetting it. He always loved washing Legolas' hair - loved the feel of the silky hair slipping through his fingers. 

"You should have seen Gimli's - and his beard," Legolas chuckled. "I found out while building the ship with him how much I enjoy working with wood. He says I have a talent for it."

"You do indeed," Elladan said. "The cabinet the two of you built for Ada is beautiful."

"I have much to learn about carving. Gimli did most of the carving on the doors, but he let me do a little as he showed me how." 

"I have no doubt that you will soon be as skilled as he," Elladan said, knowing it was true. "There is nothing I have seen you do that you do not excel at."

"Probably because I only do those things that I think I will be good at," Legolas replied with a snort of laughter. 

Elladan laughed softly and poured fresh water over Legolas' hair to rinse off the soap. 

When their bath was finished and their hair had been brushed and dried before the fire, the two Elves lay in their large bed, their legs entwined and Elladan draped over Legolas’ chest. 

“I have something to tell you, dear one,” Legolas whispered as he ran his hands along Elladan’s back. “Your father said you are healed enough and if we are careful, we can make love again.”

“I know. He told me he had talked to you,” Elladan said with a soft laugh. “I was wondering how long you were going to keep me waiting, heart of my heart.”

“Is not my timing impeccable?” Legolas replied with a grin. “Here we are, freshly bathed, in bed and naked. I think it was the perfect time to tell you.”

“I cannot argue with that,” Elladan whispered against Legolas’ lips before kissing him deeply. As their tongues slid together, slowly tasting and teasing, his fingers wound through soft golden hair. In all his long years, he had never understood what a kiss could be like before Legolas. Nothing had ever prepared him for the effect his beautiful mate could have on him, even after over a hundred years of marriage. One look, one touch, one kiss, and he was always aching for more. He pulled back to look into sparkling blue eyes, now darkened with desire. “I love you, Legolas. So very much.”

“Elladan, my Elladan,” Legolas whispered, his breath coming in soft pants. “I will always, always love you.” He pressed his lips against his mate’s, his tongue delving and plundering Elladan’s sweetness until they were both breathless. “Tell me what you want, beloved,” he whispered huskily.

“You,” Elladan said, breathless. “I need you, love.”

“Then have me,” Legolas replied, shimmying out from beneath Elladan enough to reach for the phial of oil that sat on their bedside table. Handing the oil to his mate, he drew his knees to his chest and whispered, “Hurry, my love. I have waited so long. I need you too.”

Elladan opened the phial of oil and quickly slicked his aching arousal. There would be time for leisurely foreplay later. Now, he just needed to inside of Legolas, joined with him again, and he knew his mate felt the same need. He coated his fingers, set the oil back on the table, and leaned over to press his lips against Legolas’. He gently circled his fingers around his mate’s puckered entrance before pressing one inside. 

Legolas felt his body relax around the finger that pressed into him and pulled away from the kiss. “Please, love, take me. It is enough. I want you so much.”

Elladan nodded, his body shaking with need. He gently removed his finger, moved between Legolas’ legs, and slowly slid his thick arousal into the Elf he loved. “Oh, Legolas,” he moaned, stopping when he was fully sheathed in the tight channel to allow his mate to adjust. 

Legolas wrapped his legs around Elladan’s waist as his body welcomed his mate. With a low moan, he drew Elladan down for a deep kiss and raised his hips, telling his lover to move.

Their lovemaking was slow and sweet, and both lasted longer than they would have believed possible after their long abstinence. When Elladan finally wrapped his hand around Legolas’ straining shaft and stroked, the blond Elf cried out in bliss and spilled hot over his mate’s hand. Elladan moaned loudly, Legolas’ name falling from his lips, and followed his husband into ecstasy.

After long minutes, Elladan lay against his mate, resting his head on Legolas’ chest and listening to the steady heartbeat that pulsed in time with his own. “I love you,” he whispered. “I will always love you. After the Dagor Dagorath when all of creation - Elves, Men, Dwarves, and Hobbits – stand before the throne of Eru Ilúvatar and sing His Second Song to bring the new world into being, I will be beside you.”

Legolas stroked the dark head that lay against his chest and whispered, “I love you, Elladan. Hand in hand, side by side, by the rekindled light of the Two Trees we will sing the Second Music of the Ainur - together.” 

 

Epilogue

Caladir snuffed out the final candle, giving one last look around the great library of Gondor for any exposed flame. It was now many years past since he had been appointed its chief librarian, and he was always the last to leave each night. In his hands he carried a worn, leather-bound volume. Each special day - holidays, anniversaries and birthdays - he removed the treasured book from the library with King Eldarion's blessings and carried it home. With his family gathered around him, he would read aloud the tales it held. 

The stories of the early days of their great King Elessar and the Elves in Rivendell sprang from its pages to full, glorious life with each reading. Each occasion would begin with the oft-told story of how the Lord Elladan Half-Elven had come to their village and saved Ivorien's life. When the tale was retold, he would sit in the high-backed chair that he had brought to Gondor from his childhood home after his parents' passing - the chair the dwarf Gimli had said was the very one Lord Elrond had sat in during the Council before the Fellowship had departed on their quest - and read to them from the journal. 

Tonight, his wife, children, and grandchildren would gather with his sister and her family for Ivorien's birthday and they would share the story. Their children and grandchildren knew the tale by heart, but they would once again sit with rapt expressions, waiting on his every word. As he left the library and walked the short distance to his home, his face held a smile, and he remembered old friends and acts of kindness and love. 

 

~End

 

(1) Taken nearly verbatim from ROTK.

Berior: Protector  
Anwareth: Awe  
Ivorien: Crystal  
Caladir: Light  
Lirillo: a Maiar in the service of Aulë  
Dagor Dagorath: The Final Battle when Morgoth is finally destroyed. The three Silmarils will be recovered from the Earth, sea, and sky, and Fëanor's spirit will be released from the halls of Mandos to give them to Yavanna, who will break them and rekindle the light of the Two Trees. The battle will end and renew Arda's existence: all the Elves will awake and the Powers will be young again. According to Dwarven legends, the Dwarves will help their maker Aulë recreate Arda in all its glory again. Following this, there will be a Second Music of the Ainur. This song will sing into being a new world. Men will sing it with the Ainur. It is unknown what the fate of the old races, or of the old world, will be in the new one. Even the Ainur do not know anything of the second world or the Second Music. All the Ainur know is that the Second Music will be greater than the First Music. (Synopsis taken from Wikipedia, where you can read more about this prophecy.)


End file.
